Glitter
by August Fai
Summary: Harry's Friday night consisted of Draco, glitter, fingersucking, fishnet stockings, jelly bracelets, more glitter, hitting the clubs, and...well...meeting halfway.


A/N: Written for the LJ/miettesdesmots cookie challenge, for alexia75. Smooches, you crack darling. :D

"Haaa_aaaaa_ry!"

There was a knock at the door. It was not a normal sort of knock—it was rather the kind that people do when their mind is running purely on caffeine, or when they're very impatient and hyper, or when they have just realized you are too good to be on the earth and therefore must be eaten alive. It consisted of three taps of a fingernail and two elaborate knocks—_ta tock tock ttttTOCK, TOCK TOCK tttock ta, _Harry thought as he sidled up to the offending sound—and the knocker was doing a lot of giggling.

"…yes?" Harry said warily as he peeked out to the other end. "Who's--?"

_--there, _was what Harry had in mind for the end of the sentence, but the door had been shoved in his face and he was now squished in between that and the wall.

"Oh you silly," said the giggling knocker, who seemed to be trailing glitter. "You don't have to ask who it is. Who comes to your door every Friday night?"

Something clunked heavily in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Draco," he mumbled, and jammed his abdomen into the doorknob. "Ow," he hissed, and tried to squeeze his way out of the absurdly small space. "Can't we just—" A draft of glitter floated into Harry's nose and he sneezed. "I mean—"

"Tummy rubbing time!" cooed Draco, who had bent down and was now violently petting the cat. "Yes, Harry? Why can't we just what?"

"I mean why can't we just not—go out tonight?"

Draco looked up, and the expression on his face was enough to make Harry want to crawl back into the space he had just extracated himself from. In fact, now that he could take a good look at him, Harry discovered that Draco was wearing what appeared to be a jar of glitter, fishnet stockings, and a neon green top.

Paired with the hurt look he was sporting at the moment, Harry thought that he looked rather fetching, but that was the type of opinion you only told your Secret-Keeper.

"Why not?" Draco finally said in a small voice, biting on a too-long fingernail. "We _always _go out on Friday night. You know…food, music, dancing, lights? _Men_?" He stressed the last word.

"Yes, but," Harry began, and he began to edge towards the kitchen, just in case—Draco was very adamant about the whole Friday Night Plan, "everytime you take me out, all _I _do is sit and smile at guys who already happen to have boyfriends, while you do all the flirting and dancing and trailing glitter. I mean having fun."

The cat hacked up a hairball. Draco passed on his fingernail and popped the whole finger into his mouth.

"Okay," he said, shrugging, eyelashes lowered, "if that's how you feel. I mean, I take you out just so you can maybe find _someone _to settle down with…you can't be single forever," he mumbled, talking around the finger, which was now coated in glitter and saliva.

Harry crossed his legs.

"You don't want to stay that way, do you?"

Harry took a moment to stare at the finger, which kept disappearing into Draco's mouth every few seconds. Then he blinked and seemed to realize he had just been asked a question.

"Oh yes," he breathed, "I mean, no! I don't. Just, it's your thing, Draco. Not mine. You meet your gay men in clubs, and I'll meet mine in a shoe shop after I've given him the right fit."

Draco stared.

"No? Okay, then when I've fainted and he's got to kiss me."

The finger slowed.

"…I'll impersonate myself as a woman and join the army?"

Wet and shiny, the appendage finally popped out. Harry stared, and a multitude of plastic bracelets on Draco's arm seemed to giggle. "You're nutters," he declared, and put his hand on his hip. "You have no life."

Harry swore. "I'm totally going to sue Disney for warping my expectations of love," he muttered, then opened the door for Draco. "Out."

Pouting, Draco slithered out the door, his feet sliding on the floor. "You sure…?"

Harry nodded firmly. "And take your glitter cloud with you. And your fishnet stockings, and your weird neon clothes," he said, pointing at each object.

There was a moment of brightness. "It's 80's night at that one place," Draco said, striking a pose, "I know you like Madonna, so I…"

"I'm not going! And I don't like Madonna." There was another one to give to the Secret-Keeper. "Go _swing _your hips," Harry said scornfully, and jammed the door shut as soon as Draco's ass sashayed out of sight.

He looked on the floor. The cat was rolling himself in glitter, and there was a trace of whatever perfume Draco was wearing in the air. Next to his left foot, Harry noticed one of the plastic bracelets. He picked it up.

"Fuck," he mumbled, and then slipped the circle over his own hand. "This isn't working."

He sat down next to the cat in the glitter zone. Draco would be back.

--

And Harry was right.

At four in the morning, there was another knock—very different from the one before, as this one was the sort that someone only did when they were extremely exhausted, or hungover, or just tired of it all. This Tired Knock consisted of one lazy _clunk _and then, as Harry approached the door, a much louder _thud, _which was not knocking at all but the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Harry found the Hangover Potion in the cabinet. Then he opened the door.

Sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy, half-passed out on the cold linoleum, one hand thrown over his eyes. He was still covered in glitter, but there also seemed to be a hefty amount of alcohol on him—perhaps not more than what was _in _him, but still a lot nonetheless—and it seemed he had lost about fifty of his jelly bracelets.

"Harry," Draco mumbled, and groped for the door. He hit the cat instead, who bit Harry's ankle. "'M drunk."

"I know," Harry smiled, and made no move to do anything.

"…aren't you gon' to help me?" came the weary reply. "I'm, you know, passed out in front of your door 'n everything."

"I know," Harry continued to smile.

There was a long, drawn-out silence.

"Pick me up, dammit," Draco moaned, rolling over and spreading more glitter. "My head hurts like a _bitch._"

"I kn—"

"Ha_rry_!"

Sighing, Harry relented and dragged Draco inside by the foot, leaving him to rest right inside the doorway where he had left his puddle of glitter earlier.

"How was it?" Harry asked, letting himself sit beside Draco. "Meet anyone nice? How was Madonna?"

"She was brilliant," Draco murmured, rubbing his forehead. "I lost a stocking."

Harry looked down. Sure enough, there was only one odd sock adorning Draco's feet. "I'm sorry," he said, patting the naked foot. "Want another?"

Draco stared (well, if he could focus, he would have). "You got fishnet stockings?"

"No, I mean, you want a sock?"

There was a sigh. "Not particularly."

Harry realized, after a small pause, that his first question had been ignored. He asked it again.

"What?" Draco said, pulling the cat's ears.

"I said I should give you the cat if you like him so much," Harry said glumly.

"No. That's not what you said."

"No, it's not."

It seemed to be, Harry thought, a night for pauses. And finger sucking, he quickly added as Draco's hand stumbled clumsily onto his.

"I didn't meet anyone," he said.

"Poor you."

"No—I didn't want to meet anyone. Smug bitches."

"No one at all? You didn't like anyone?"

"They didn't like my glitter." Draco sulked. "Cynics."

"Oh, I don't think they were _cynics, _exactly—"

"Whatever."

The hand in Harry's—which happened to be Draco's—squeezed. Harry became especially alarmed.

"Why are you holding my hand?" He asked, a tad hysterically.

Draco made a whining noise in the back of his throat and turned over, taking his hand back with him. "I'm drunk and I can't find a boyfriend at those stupid clubs because I wear too much glitter and—"

"You only wore glitter tonight—"

"And I don't really like them anyway; I only go so I can take you with me—"

The hand made a comeback. This time, Harry squeezed.

"That's what I thought…"

"—those guys are ugly anyway," said Draco, and Harry realized he had been continuing on without taking a breath. "I mean I meant it when you said you couldn't be single forever, and I did the finger sucking thing on purpose, I saw a guy do that once, it was very sexy—it was, wasn't it? Don't be single forever, that's all I'm saying. Ouch, I am very drunk and my head hurts. Do you have any of that hangover stuff? The one Granger made you? She gave you a whole case of it. You do, don't you?"

Draco licked his lips and sat up. _His head must be _throbbing, Harry thought. _What's he doing?_

"We won't go back, okay? We'll spend Friday nights doing something else, like being single together."

Another heavy-something dropped into the pit of Harry's stomach. The night before seemed to be replaying itself, only there was awkward hand squeezing instead of hot finger sucking.

"That's all?" Harry said, mouth dry, voice cracking.

Draco cocked his head and a small shower of glitter fell from his hair to the floor.

"No, it's not all. Because you know what I meant—"

Harry swallowed.

"—we can be single together to everyone else, and we can spend our Friday nights finger sucking and watching the telly and petting the cat and drinking margarita mix and wearing glitter…" He leaned forward, and Harry felt himself being dragged that way too.

"…and kissing. Wanna try?"

They met halfway.


End file.
